


Judge, Jury and Executioner

by Ifeelwitchcraftuponme



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst is my middle name, Canon Divergence, Demon Aziraphale, Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fallen Angels, First Post, Fluff, Forbidden Love, God - Freeform, Hurt and Comforting, Hurt/Comfort, I make two poor boys suffer, Love, M/M, Pining, Post-Apocalypse, Suffering, angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-02 06:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19435918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ifeelwitchcraftuponme/pseuds/Ifeelwitchcraftuponme
Summary: Aziraphale’s past actions finally catching up with him, but when he faces heaven’s wrath can he survive hell and the Fall? More importantly how will his and Crowley’s relationship survive?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction so bear with me. Please polite criticism is very welcome.

Aziraphale was falling, every part of him burned, forsaken, shedding feathers as he fell like a comet.

It had been so normal before that, after the Apocalypse that wasn't his days had spread out before him like a never ending quilt of days with Crowley, feeding ducks with Crowley and dining with Crowley, his best friend. Adam had promised that they would be safe to enjoy another millennia together, unbothered. He was quite wrong.

Aziraphale has been in his book shop again, fixing up the last of his fire proof defences, with Crowley at his side they had promised each other it would never happen again. But now they were nearly finished Crowley had used this as an excuse to venture out and buy some "decent coffee", Aziraphale didn't mind as far as he knew he had the rest of a golden eternity ahead of him.

The bell rings behind him turning excitedly expecting Crowley, a surge of warms and delight fills him from somewhere unknown. Expecting sunglasses and the most dramatic black attire, his face drained of colour, the playful light gone from his eyes. It was no opulent demon. Instead Gabriel stood there, Sandalphon beside him grinning with vicious joy. He look more evil than Crowley ever had. Maybe grey was the colour of evil. After all Gabriel was an immaculate monolith in grey. They didn't even bother to speak only to smile like cats as they dragged Aziraphale towards his portal. Go-gosh he knew he should have destroyed it, little bursts of frustration went of in his head, but neither he or Crowley had wanted to touch it. The light flared up cold and empty as he was pulled into the circle, it was a cold sort of agony as his mortal form burned away again. Ethereal form caught in heavens beam, he was dragged up until all three of them disappeared in a burst of white light.

"Angel?" Minutes later Crowley slammed into the bookshop to find it empty and his angel gone.

Aziraphale hated heaven, every thing about he had vowed to never repeat. Never again would he have to be stuck in rooms so white his eyes burned, never again would he have to face Gabriel and his cronies, and yet here he was.

It look a lot to make an angel shiver, they mostly see themselves above the weather and cold never bothers them with God's warmth within, but looking in Gabriel's empty eyes a shiver raced through Aziraphale's spine. "Principality Aziraphale, angel of the eastern gate, twice traitor-"

"Twice traitor?" Aziraphale knew he shouldn't but he couldn't help himself, if he was going to be punished for something, he would take a leaf from Crowley's scaly ledger and ask some questions.

This did nothing but make Gabriel smile, as if asking questions sealed his fate, 'it sealed Crowley's' he chided himself, but at least Crowley would be proud of him now.

Sandalphon miracled a spear from the air, placing it onto the small of Aziraphale's back he could feel its weight and icy blade through his coat, and for a second wondered if Sandalphon had poked a hole through it. He liked this coat to much for it to be ruined by a oversized cherubim with an ego problem.

“Twice traitor” “did you not defy you orders from the omibenevolent One, and give away her gift to you to the treacherous humans?” Aziraphale looked a little stunned, honestly he didn’t think they wouldn’t have noticed, “But they looked so afraid-“

“So you do admit it!” “God saw it wise to throw them from paradise, and you thought that, you thought that your judgement was greater than that of the almighty?” Gabriel looked smugger than ever, and Aziraphale had an overwhelming urge, like never before, to slap the look off his face, “Pride, dear Aziraphale is a damning quality, maybe you will the next that the almighty throws from paradise?”

“It’s not lying if I say thatI’ve been looking forward to this” “The minute it turned out you were fraternising with that damned piece of work Crowley, I knew we would be having this lovely conversation!” Gabriel gave a faux sad face, bottom lip poking out. Aziraphale squirmed it was only adorable when Crowley did it, and his hatred at the way Gabriel of all people could act like Crowley was something evil to be pitied, boiled down in the pit of his heart, Something foreign and -hellish?

“Let alone ruin our God-given chance to prove our devotion and defeat your dear demons, Pssh”

There was no way Aziraphale could deny that he had helped to avert the apocalypse, any jokes or comments just felt like they were prolonging his fate. As a being of ethereal nature he hadn’t exactly dwelled on the negative outcomes of his deeds, he did what he thought was good and, well even if sometimes things when wrong, he was doing he right thing, right?

His thoughts spun in his head, was Crowley right all those millennia ago, had he done the wrong thing? Or was heaven not as good as he thought?

He was good wasn’t he?

“Gabriel, I cannot deny that I have, well gone against you once or twice, but in my defence I did what I thought I was meant to? I thwarted evil, and I have tried so hard to help humanity,” “Gabriel please I was doing good I’m sure.”

Sandalphon laughed, flashing the metal in his mouth, dark little eyes shining with cruel delight, a look Aziraphale had seen on young Warlock’s face when he had crushed innocent beetles beneath his heel once, looking more like a bully than an angel.

“You were right Gabriel, he’s gone native,” Sandalphon shuddered, but Aziraphale knew that the sharp smile was still there.

Gabriel leant forwards and placed his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, any outward amiability was conflicted with the pressure on Aziraphale’s upper arm, cocking his head to the side with a nasty smile Gabriel filled Aziraphale’s vision, he could feel Gabriel’s hatred rolling off him in waves, stunning to even him, he had obviously known that he wasn’t Gabriel’s favourite person, this was a cold disapproving hatred that cut deep through his hopeful heart.

“Aziraphale Principality, angel of the eastern gate, twice traitor, you seem to believe in your righteousness, but as a proven traitor to heaven and your Archangels, today we hold you on trial, and-“ Gabriel smiled wider at this, “if you are found guilty by our mighty creator, you will be cast from heaven and you shall Fall.”

Aziraphale’s blood ran cold, and time seemed to freeze. Images of Crowley eyes filled with furious tears, telling him of fire and agony, and falling. Crowley had barely survived but he was changed. Aziraphale couldn’t, he was different, he couldn’t fall, he was an angel, he was good, wasn’t he?

“If our great and majestic creator could speak now if she sees an ineffable reason to save this traitor, may she speak now!” Heart frantic in his chest Aziraphale strained his ears, he felt like his chest would split, thrashing in place consumed by the cold fires of terror.

Silence.

Nothing.

A heart beating out a desperate drum drowning every thing out, the blood pumping in his ears smothering Gabriel.

“ Aziraphale once angel traitor, I sentence you to eternity of suffering in hell. Enjoy your fall!”

The last thing Aziraphale saw as he fell, the white stone dissipating beneath his feet, was Gabriel’s smile purple eyes predator like, Judge, jury and executioner.

He was falling.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m an awful person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is being completed for Nanowrimo so expect a few days between updates.

There is no worse pain than Falling.

Aziraphale had known this, Crowley had held him close and told him so many times, it wouldn’t be a suitable punishment if it wasn’t.

As an angel Aziraphale had never endured such agony, pain was always something fleeting and easily forgotten. 

But this, this was different.

He was burning and freezing at the same time, eyes wide, great mind unable to process his fate. Pain came like waves, ice burning away at who he was. 

Until he could help but scream.

Hurtling through cloudy skies, wings burning away like a rocket on re-entry, he screamed.

At first just a wild unholy howl of agony, something that would have once made him recoil in terror. His throat tearing apart as everything that made him himself, poured from his lips in flame.

Then the cold consumed him, winds buffeting him drove tendrils of ice deeper and deeper into his being. He could barely see anymore, eyes dark with pain and pure untainted misery.

Words tumbled from his shattered mind and into his mouth, nonsense, prayers, names punctuated with sobs.

Crowley, he cried for Crowley, he didn’t want it to end like this he wanted to see him again. Images flashing past his eyes consumed with fire. Crowley laughing, saving him, those stupid sunglasses and holding him close.

He screamed Crowley’s name into the wind, spinning through the sky falling from an eternity above, he called out the name of the only demon he had ever loved.

Crowley still languished in the bookshop, uncertainty filling him. Aziraphale wouldn’t leave without telling him, right? Cursing under his breath he reached to turn on the next set of lights. 

And a wave of fear hit him.

Pupils constricting, his head whipped around. Panic forming at the base of his skull.

“Angel! Where are you?” “What the he-hell are you playing at?” Silence, another wave, pushing him to his knees, it pulled tears to his eyes. Blinking wildly his whole body vibrating in apprehension.

Then he heard it, the word shook him to his very core. Ringing through his whole body.

His true name, only the demons knew it, except he knew this wasn’t a demon. At least not completely.

Aziraphale. Oh god he had told Aziraphale. He barely remembers it he must have been drunk, he wasn’t drunk now and he was certain Aziraphale needed him.

Crowley was all ready on his feet. 

Aziraphale. What was happening? Where was he ? All Crowley knew was that he was in trouble.

He was out the door and running. He didn’t know where he was going as he ran through soho. 

Barely human, form flickering like a candle, his heat beating a machine gun beat. 

He could feel his angel’s pain, ignoring the questions in his mind, he ripped his wings free. Black as night, luxurious and beautiful yet somehow so monstrous. He soared up terrified of what he would find. A compass needle within his dark heart pulling him toward his stricken companion.

If a human tried to fly in the way that Crowley did that day, as in that fast and that high, their bodies would be torn apart by the forces, but to angels and to demons this is nothing.

Somewhere between the upper atmosphere and the wilds of space, a celestial, or well- demonic, being can fly into the air-space of heaven. Unfortunately this is impossible for humans.

That’s where Aziraphale was, he hit the barrier, cleaving through it for the last time, this fiery contact beginning his final metamorphosis.

Falling aflame.

Somewhere between the fires of hell and the light of heaven Aziraphale was neither angel nor demon. Yet he still fell. The planet surging toward him, he could see where perhaps his final impact would be. He didn’t want it to end like this, he wanted Crowley. Throat too scared to call out, blood running from his eyes and mouth, he was a torpedo if blood flame and greying feathers.

Crowley could barely tell what it was when he saw it. He was tearing through the sky, heart pulling him on. And then he saw it, it looked like nothing he wanted to see again. Those years of his own agony buried, every part of him screamed remembering the torture that was falling the first time. Those s burning images superimposed with Aziraphale’s soft smiles and gentle laughter tore him in two.

Aziraphale had becomes a storm, a flurry of fluffy white feathers wrenching themselves free.

Spiralling towards the ground, wings open behind him, broken, fractured, bleeding.

Any feathers left, Crowley knew would never be white again.

He dove from a distance, falling faster than any bird, but not fast enough.

The ground drew closer and with every second Crowley’s outstretched fingers brushed tantalising closer.

He couldn’t tell if Aziraphale could see him. His once blue eyes dark with blood and nightmarish terror.

So close, almost if Crowley could catch him he could save his dear angel.

So close but never touching.

A curse

But he could sense Crowley, a small smile, a last spark of hope. Before he crashed into the earth and fell through the barriers of hell.

Crowley did want to stop, but the chasm was closing, Aziraphale was just a speck of silver in the darkness once so close now swallowed by the mouth of hell. The land around him blurred, any semblance to the green rolling hills and cliffs were gone in a smear of green, as he pushed himself faster and further. Were he had promised himself he would never go again.

Hell.

It’s as you imagine it. 

Dark with fire, air heavy with sulphur and screaming. 

Like any other fallen angel Aziraphale fell into the heart of the flames. 

But this time Crowley followed him.

It was too late.

The last of heaven in Aziraphale burned away then. 

Condemning him, as Crowley lay over his broken body and screamed into eternity.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was considering posting this with the next chapter, But I feel that this makes more sense. Anyway I’m nearly done the work should be finished tomorrow or the next day.

Crowley had been holding onto Aziraphale long enough that he had run out of tears to cry.   
Clutching the broken ang- no not angel, something else, to his chest he heaved with great dry sobs and hoped for something, anything to help them.  
Hope doesn’t survive in Hell.

Aziraphale was to weak to move but he was there. Trapped in a lonely agony. He could feel his wings again and now wished that he couldn’t. They burned. All of him burned.

Crowley barely would have noticed the change, but now he saw everything, Aziraphale was conscious, and in agony, an agony he knew well.  
“It hurts, Crowley” “It hurts so much”  
Crowley swallows the tears to hold him tighter. Aziraphale convulses in his grip. More tears of blood running down his face, crying into Crowley’s shoulder.  
To weak to do anything but cry and shake and hold each other they lie together in their own nightmares.

They must have lain there for a while for when Crowley woke hells red light shone upon Aziraphale, he was changing. The soft ness in his cheeks the colour of his hair, draining away, and all ready new feathers broke through his mangled wings.  
He couldn’t breath, every second they were here he was losing the being he fell for and never told.  
“Aziraphale, Aziraphale we have to leave,”   
“No, why?” his reply barely carried above the distant screams. Soft it was but also, strange and rough.   
Crowley’s heart skipped a beat.   
Hell had begun to turn him.  
He was losing him. 

Lips close to Aziraphales ears he hissed “ We have to leave, Aziraphale, every minute you spend down here you lose yourself, Zira please I can’t lose you.”

“You all ready have, I’m nothing”

“Zira please, you are everything,” “I don’t care who’s side you are on, our side remember.”

“Leave me Crowley, I’m useless, I’m a burden, a traitor, you don’t want me.”  
Crowley could have screamed, he took this as and opportunity to stand up and punt away an imp that was coming to investigate.

“Angel please, if we don’t go now we’ll have the army’s of hell on our hands, they probably kill me if they find me,”

“I’m no angel anymore, leave me Crowley, let me go,” “let me lose myself, I won’t burden you any longer.”

“Never” he was back in an instant eyes burning behind glasses on the border of molten, he was leaving, and losing Aziraphale was a possibility he was never ever going to consider. It burnt his heart to see him like this, but it was still his Aziraphale in there. And they would never be separated again.

Crowley bundled him up in his arms like a child, with complaints from both side because Aziraphale was most definitely not a child, and an injured one at that. He could hear the marching of damned feet, and for a second it crossed his mind how similar heaven and hell could be. Then he took off, his wings as hellish as they were would save them from this damnation.  
Up into the dark they flew as fast as Crowley’s tired wings could take them, bursting through the ground like beetles, fresh air in their lungs.   
Right there Crowley swore he would never taste sulphur again.

The bookshop was quiet. no one had ventured in after a mad man had torn through the doors, and another night was falling as Crowley stepped back over the threshold, Aziraphale a limp bundle of black feathers.

Clearing books away with a flick of his hand Crowley set Aziraphale down on the beige sofa, the wholesome soft atmosphere ruined by the blood and black feathers. Curled into a ball wings wrapped tight around himself Aziraphale was tiny and vulnerable.   
Crowley watched him, he was so close to just hug his angel tight. He was so focused and yet still so dismayed the room seemed to shake with every sob.  
He was so close Crowley could almost touch Aziraphale’s shivering back, his wings were still fragile and weak. His coat stained black with blood. 

As Crowley watched in a morbid fascination he could see as each feather grew and spread.  
It hit him then, how permanent this was, he clutched at his own wing almost stumbling over in uncertainty. They were so similar that all he could do was hate it, hate himself.   
It was his fault, he had cursed his only friend. And now he has dragged Aziraphale down with him. He could have screamed, done anything with the anger, at himself, that now ran through him.  
Clutching at his head he wasn’t expecting to feel the warmth of tears to run down his face.   
Staring down at his hands in apprehension, he turned his head back to Aziraphale, he owed him that. He would help and he would go before he brought down any more damage.   
It was his fault after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m finished finally enjoy I may never write fanfic again.  
> Kidding this was great.

Aziraphale began to cough convulsing violently, Crowley almost leapt to his side, he could hear Zira’s sob between coughs.

Crowley placed a hand on Aziraphale’s wing, it felt wrong. It wasn’t as soft and warm as Aziraphale, no as Aziraphale’s were once.

Not anymore he was a demon.

Like Crowley forsaken and unforgiven.

Crowley refused to leave his side all night, curled up beneath a pile of books, Aziraphale so close yet so far. Crowley woke alone, as dust mites fizzled above his nose in the morning’s light.

In the bookshop alone mind scrambling to price together a night of tears and pain.

Realising what happened in a flood of torment, Crowley was struck awake, and he was alone the sofa stained, but empty. Crowley hastily miraculed the sofa clean, but the lights began to swing in a spectral breeze as he realised that Aziraphale was really gone.

“Angel?!” “Azirazphale were are you?!” “Aziraphale!!?” The books above him swaying menacingly. Crowley was almost vibrating in fear, sunglasses quivering in terror. Aziraphale had left him, it really was his fault.

  
  


A book slammed down beside him, whole towers slipping to fall,

"Crowley, is that you?" Although all Crowley could really hear was the blood pumping through his ears, that voice cut through him.

It wasn't Aziraphale's at least not what it used to be, the voice was quieter but rougher, any melodies in his voice gone. Fear mirroring Crowley's own was written in this voice.

"Ang-Aziraphale is that you?"

"Yes Crowley, who else would it be?"

It didn't matter Crowley was running towards the voice.

Aziraphale was standing in front of his bathroom significantly cleaner, seeing Crowley the new demon pulled his wings around him into a cocoon.

"Crowley please dear, I don't want to see me, not like this"

Crowley stopped before this pillar of black feathers, in the morning light he could see the oily rainbow in every midnight feather, they were lighter sleeker, but more painful as Crowley knew. He extended his wing carefully around Aziraphale pulling him closer.

"Aziraphale, I will love you even if you look like Hastur, tell me the damages"

Aziraphale sniffed, "eyes, hair, teeth, and" he began to cry again, "tears, oh Crowley I'm a monster," honestly it shook Crowley to his core by what Aziraphale told him, how permanent this was.

He reached across and parted the wings slightly smiling in a way he hoped looked charming and comforting, in the shadows of Zira's wings he thought he saw a smile.

And the wings parted completely, Aziraphales face tensed, whole body stiff, the first thing Crowley noticed was that his clothes looked wrong, they hung wrong on his frame, he looked so drained and now he was so pale he looked like the whites and cream were swallowing him.

Crowley leant closer and tipped his chin up to him, his face still held similarities, but now with face and hair pale as bone,

Crowley longed to run his hands through Aziraphale's curls.

Right now as Aziraphale stood, head cupped in Crowley's hands, the most notable thing where the new scars, across his cheeks, down his neck and on his hands. Crowley hadn't seen scars this bad in a while, but he could hope they would fade as most others did.

Also the blood on his cheeks, that was rather noticeable, Crowley brushed it away as gently as he could, Aziraphale's face scrunched, and Crowley laughed it was still his angel, his love in there.

Aziraphale dropped his wings falling away into the shadows of the room, he flinched exposed, Crowley could feel the shame rolling off him, an overwhelming demonic presence, that hit like a punch to the gut. Aziraphale as Crowley knew him was gone, but beneath the shame Crowley could feel the warmth of Aziraphale's soul, different but not gone.

He watched as Aziraphale, inhaled and opened his eyes, finally locking eyes with Crowley.

Crowley flinched, a hiss escaping between clenched teeth, where baby blue eyes had once been there were now black.

Aziraphale's eyes were black, dark and clearly miserable.

Aziraphale noticed Crowley's hesitation and turned away.

"I'm sorry my dear,"

"No angel, it's fine!"

It was out of Crowley's mouth before he could stop it.

"But I'm not an angel, Crowley, not anymore,"

"I know Aziraphale, I'm sorry," "but I'm not either, Zira you can work this out I promise", "It’s just I'm so sorry, I did this to you,"

“What Crowley?”

“It’s my fault isn’t it, they hurt you because, I came to close, and you were too nice, wasn’t it?”

“Oh Crowley, no it wasn’t, it was my fault, I promise, it was my deeds I earned these feathers.”

Crowley barked out a laugh, sniffing away the errant tears, he flung him self into Azraphales arms, and held him as tight as he could, he wasn’t as warm as he once was but Crowley didn’t care. He didn’t even care about the tears of blood on his jacket.

When they pulled apart they were both a mess, Aziraphale rubbed at the bloody tear tracks down his face.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” then realising something “oh lord Crowley, am I going to have to get sunglasses?”

Crowley cracked up, both of them laughing like mad men, Aziraphale careless and freer than he had ever been before, flashing sharp new teeth.

“My dearest you need a whole fashion update,” Crowley couldn’t help smiling at Aziraphale’s look of horror.

“Crowley, I love you but what do we do now?”

“I really don’t know, but I love you too,”

Two demons held each other close neither sure what the day would bring, sat together, they were only a slightly more likely pair, what ever happened they would face it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway hope you enjoyed I might write more fanfiction for Nanowrimo but I’m not sure, let me know how I’m doing and if there is anything you want to see.


End file.
